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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258701">sunkissed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/charizona/pseuds/charizona'>charizona</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cheating, F/F, Pool Sex, Smut, Teasing, it's... raunchy, lifeguard AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:00:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/charizona/pseuds/charizona</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Villanelle is a lifeguard, Eve is the hot childless MILF who comes and reads by the pool.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>408</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey folks. it's the end of summer and i'm reminiscing on my old teenage days where i was a 16 yr old responsible for human lives. good times.</p><p>this is two parts, the next part WILL COME SOON. i promise u that. i'm not a tease.</p><p>to preface: inspired by porn</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wait, wait, wait,” Villanelle says, grabbing Elena’s sunscreen slick shoulder and pulling her back into the lifeguard office. </p><p>The room is tiny, can hardly fit the seven of them that work there, and through the open door Villanelle watches as a woman sits down on a lounge chair and starts rubbing suntan lotion into her skin. She does it slowly, taking her time, and to anyone else, it wouldn’t be sensual, it wouldn’t be <em> weird</em>, but to Villanelle, it’s damn near pornographic. </p><p>“You’ve <em> got </em> to be joking.” Elena glares at her, crossing her arms.</p><p>“We can’t— I don’t want to interrupt her.” Villanelle’s cheeks burn, both with slight embarrassment and the heat of the sun. They’re the only two on the office, but Villanelle can hear the sounds of children in the locker room, feet squelching on the concrete floors.</p><p>Elena looks out the door. “You’ve got to get over this thing.”</p><p>“What thing?!” If Villanelle’s voice squeaks, no one points it out. </p><p>“Your <em> thing </em> with—” Elena looks around, no doubt thinking about the children who could possibly overhear from the locker room, and then lowers her voice. “With MILFs.”</p><p>“I do not have a thing,” Villanelle bites back, but her gaze is already wandering past Elena’s shoulder and through the doorway, because the woman in the chair is beginning to gather up her hair and tie it back. “No,” Villanelle breathes. “Please keep it down.”</p><p>Elena looks between the two of them and scoffs. “Someone has to call rest break.” She grabs a rescue tube and gives Villanelle another glare, just for good measure, before stalking out of the lifeguard office and onto the pool deck.</p><p>It’s almost the end of the first week of summer. The pools opened on Monday, and Villanelle, blessed for the first summer with a management opportunity, has taken her new position very, very seriously. Mostly because her father joked that she couldn’t handle working the entire summer. Excuse you, she is twenty-two and almost a college graduate. Of course, she could be spending the summer in Milan, if he hadn’t sat her down and had a very important, very demoralizing talk with her.</p><p>“I’m getting rid of your allowance,” Konstantin had said, and Villanelle really wished he would’ve waited until Irina was at karate practice, or swimming practice, or whatever the fuck else Konstantin pays for her to do, before he’d announced this.</p><p>Villanelle’s little sister rocketed into the room and immediately blew Villanelle a raspberry. “Haha! I get more allowance than you do.”</p><p>“She does?” Villanelle whined.</p><p>“She is thirteen,” Konstantin said gravely. “It’s illegal here for her to work.”</p><p>“It will be illegal when I kill her,” Villanelle muttered. “And steal all of her money.”</p><p>Konstantin had crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. Villanelle knew money wasn’t the greatest, what with Irina’s mother abandoning them after they’d moved to the United States for her to work her fancy government job. Villanelle never really liked her, anyway, and she was very vocal about it. </p><p>So Villanelle is a lifeguard. Pros: constantly tan, hot women to look at, and her hair has never looked more blonde. Cons: looking after teenage disasters, gross <em> men</em>, and her hair has never been more damaged.</p><p>She bounces a bit in the office, throwing what she likes to call an internalized tantrum. Hardly anything from the outside, but a constant wave of turmoil and rage on the inside. It helps her stay a good member of society.</p><p>“Excuse me,” a voice behind her says, and Villanelle turns to the other side of the office, where they have a small counter to take admission.</p><p>She smiles sweetly at the white woman waiting for her there, mouth already pursed in distaste. “Sorry about that,” she says, practicing her best American accent. No use letting her Russian slip out and giving this woman more reason to dislike her. “How can I help you?”</p><p>“We’d like to swim,” the woman says, blinking at her. </p><p><em> Duh</em>. “Of course.” Villanelle takes in the two small children standing by the woman, typing into the ancient cash register. “That’ll be ten dollars.” The woman hands over a twenty, and while Villanelle gathers the change, she says, “Oh, and just so you know, we’re all certified to deliver a baby if you happen to go into labor while you’re here.”</p><p>The woman gives her a glare. “I’m not pregnant.”</p><p>“Good riddance,” Villanelle says back. “Have a good day!” And before the woman can rant at her, Villanelle turns around and walks out of the office, immediately pressing her back to the warm wall on the other side of the door, taking in the chaos of rest break. Ten minutes to the hour, the lifeguards are legally required to kick everyone under eighteen out of the pool, both so kids don’t get so tired they drown, and so the lifeguards have a minute to check their phones.</p><p>The other lifeguards are climbing off their posts, Elena standing at guard for the break. It’s not a bad group, if Villanelle really thinks about it. Weekly, she gets to drill them on first aid and rescue skills, and this week, she’s planning on announcing an active shooter. She’s planning on “killing” one of the guards and throwing him into the pool, forcing the other ones to carry out how they’d deal with it if it were an actual situation.</p><p>She hasn’t decided who she’s going to kill, though.</p><p>Maybe Kenny? He’s the first to pass her as he hurries into the lifeguard office, probably more to pee before getting back to the stand and not to check his phone, like everyone else. He’s always looking at Villanelle with a little sprinkle of terror in his eyes, mostly because on the first day of lifeguard recertification she made him swim a five-hundred freestyle and yelled at him the whole day. She really loves management.</p><p>Or perhaps Hugo? The tan, skinny seventeen year old minds his business, which Villanelle likes, but he ogles her when he thinks she isn’t looking. The thing about her, though? She’s <em> always </em> looking. </p><p>Not Jess, who is the sweetest nineteen year old Villanelle has ever had the pleasure of talking to. The sweet ones are too pure to corrupt, and they are really just boring. </p><p>Maybe she’ll kill Elena, her assistant manager, just for the fun of it.</p><p>Eh.</p><p>Villanelle crosses her arms and skates her gaze back over to the woman, who is now laying on the chair and full on tanning. She’s got her eyes closed, underneath her sunglasses, so Villanelle doesn’t really feel guilty looking her body up and down. She’s in a red bikini. A conservative bikini, as bikinis go, but Villanelle supposes that’s because it’s basically impossible to get a good tan in anything but a two-piece.</p><p>“Hot, isn’t she?” Hugo’s voice makes Villanelle jump, and she decides, in that instant, that whoever she kills during inservice, she’ll make sure Hugo is first responder. She wants to see him fail.</p><p>“Yes, it’s hot,” Villanelle responds, looking up to the sun. “Almost ninety-five.”</p><p>“You know what I’m talking about,” he groans, leaning against the wall beside her. “MILF-city, over there.”</p><p>“It’s very rude to talk about patrons like that.” Villanelle tries to sound convincing, but her heart isn’t in it. “Don’t you have a fifteen year old to Snapchat?”</p><p>“She’s sixteen, thank you.” Hugo runs a hand through his irritatingly well-styled brown hair, before letting his head hang to the side. “You know, I thought that you being into girls meant we could talk about these things.”</p><p>“I’m into <em> women</em>,” Villanelle corrects, turning a steely gaze to him. “And I’m imagining every single way I could kill you right now.”</p><p>Finally, he relents. He raises his hands, backing up. “Fine. Be that way. But let me know if you want me to pretend to drown so you can look a little heroic later. For the <em> women</em>.” He disappears into the office, and Villanelle realizes that’s not such a bad idea. </p><p>Villanelle spends the next hour not-not watching the woman in the red bikini. She spends more time on the pool deck than she usually does, not obligated to actually lifeguard as the manager. She thinks about being the one to reapply the sunscreen on the woman’s skin, and is almost two minutes deep into a daydream about it when Kenny approaches her, all nervous energy and weird teenage-boy-ness.</p><p>“Um. Villanelle?” His voice cracks a bit.</p><p>“What is it?” She doesn’t bother looking at him. </p><p>“I was just wondering if I could have, um, a day off. In about three weeks. I’ve got a family thing, and we’re—”</p><p>“Just email me,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. She can <em> hear </em> Kenny’s gulp as he nods and walks off, but she doesn’t care because—</p><p>Because the woman is leaving.</p><p>Villanelle runs back to the office, where Hugo is manning the cash register, and she very quickly sheds her t-shirt, much to Hugo’s delight, and very quickly finds a compact mirror from her bag and runs her hands through her washed out hair. </p><p>“Looking—”</p><p>Villanelle fixes Hugo with a death glare, the kind of glare that tells him to wisely not finish that sentence, and then Villanelle is back out of the office, where the woman is pulling on a shirt and shorts and gathering her things. </p><p>Small internal pep talk, and then she walks. One step, two steps— She turns to where Elena is chatting with a patron, only to find Elena watching her intently, eyes rocketing back and forth between Villanelle and the woman. Villanelle looks back to the office where Hugo stands in the doorway, arms crossed. He gives her a thumbs up. Even Kenny, from his lifeguard stand, glances at her periodically as she walks, and Villanelle comes to the slow realization that they’ve all been talking about this when she hasn’t been in the office.</p><p>She sets an internal reminder to torture <em> all </em> of them during inservice.</p><p>Because <em> sure</em>, she’s asked out… three women in the past week. She’s only fucked one of them, though, so. </p><p>And this woman? This woman is easy. She looks to be around late thirties, honestly she might have already crested forty, and Villanelle doesn’t care because this woman is sexy. She’s got the type of ass that cycles, thighs that are both smooth and strong, and a head of hair that rivals a lion’s mane, except thick with dark curls.</p><p>Villanelle has several things going for her, including a toned body of her <em> own,</em> thank you very much, and an indelible charm. Her best feature, probably, is her ability to become anyone at any moment, for any reason.</p><p>She chooses steely and confident. Not quite valley girl, but the kind of girl who fucks her boss.</p><p>Sexy.</p><p>“Excuse me,” Villanelle says, not bothering to hide her Russian accent this time, and the woman looks up, and <em> shit</em>, that look sends heat straight to Villanelle’s gut. This woman looks at her the way most women do, in quiet bewilderment, not quite sure whether they’re jealous or aroused, and Villanelle cocks a hip just so, and if she’s flexing her abs, so what? Sue her. “Are you doing anything later?”</p><p>Direct. Easy. Off-putting. “I’m sorry?” The woman’s voice is velvet. </p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Villanelle says, standing just a tad closer. “And I’d love to take you out to dinner.”</p><p>The woman stares at her. While not unused to this kind of reaction, Villanelle is kind of impatient, too, and what’s the point of small talk if not to delay the inevitable?</p><p>“Oh, um,” the woman flounders, and Villanelle realizes she’s made a very, very critical mistake. While there isn’t a ring on the woman’s left hand finger, there’s a necklace around her neck, and the charm had been hidden between her breasts, underneath the swimsuit. It falls out now, revealing a wedding band on the chain. “I’m,” the woman continues, “not interested.”</p><p>What?</p><p>Not interested. That’s it? No<em> I’m flattered</em>, no <em> thank you for the attention</em>. Just <em> uninterested.</em> </p><p>Villanelle nods, and the woman grabs her bag and quickly walks to the locker room entrance, disappearing probably forever. If Villanelle were her, she’d never come back, that’s for sure.</p><p>Villanelle stands there and stares at the park outside of the pool fence for a moment longer, not ready to turn around and find what’s waiting for her. She doesn’t really know how to sit with rejection. She goes after older women, she’s <em> devastating</em>, and she’s a god at eating pussy. Literally what is there not to like.</p><p>She turns finally, and of course, waiting there for her, is Hugo, Kenny, and Elena. The only one not laughing is Kenny, but he’s no longer looking at her with terror, and <em> that </em> is unacceptable.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>Eve Polastri is bored.</p><p>It’s two weeks after school has ended, and <em> already</em>, she’s getting restless. She’s not even teaching summer classes this year, so what’s the point? Her body’s internal clock never stops, but she really wishes it would let her just fucking relax. Niko is taking summer in stride. That’s the benefit of being married to another teacher, Eve guesses. Same schedule, same school, same students they can complain about. </p><p>Niko teaches Calculus. Eve teaches AP Literature. They’re Mr. and Mrs. Polastri, except everyone hates Eve because she makes them read <em> The Scarlet Letter</em>, which she actually likes but it seems her students never do.</p><p>She really thought she’d never find someone else who liked that book, until.</p><p>Until.</p><p>Until she watched a devastatingly gorgeous blonde lifeguard pull it out on break while it was casual reading. </p><p>Eve normally likes to sit by the pool and read, knock out two tasks at the same time (tanning and hitting her Goodreads goal), but today? She’d noticed that lifeguard in the first ten minutes of her stay and hadn’t been able to focus on a single word. So she’d just laid there and soaked in the sun until it almost hurt, wondering what the fuck these stupid butterflies were doing inside her all of a sudden. And <em> then</em>, the blonde had walked over and asked her out.</p><p>Bill guffaws over his drink, almost spitting it out, and Eve says, “I <em> know</em>. She couldn’t be more than, what, twenty? God.” Eve lets her face fall into her hands, listening to Bill attempt to regain his breathing and the ambiance of the bar around them. </p><p>“What did you <em> say</em>, Eve,” Bill presses, shaking his head.</p><p>“I— No, of course,” she says, cheeks burning. “I’ve got Niko.”</p><p>“It’s not everyday we get asked out by twenty-year-olds.” Bill lets out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. “Wow.”</p><p>“Wow,” Eve agrees, already feeling her gin and tonic. </p><p>She gets home late, but Niko is gone, and there’s a note on their counter telling her there’s dinner in the fridge. She opens it and gives the container a sniff, even though she ate with Bill at the bar. She changes into her pajamas, a loose tee and patterned pants, and slips under her covers, alcohol buzzing through her.</p><p>Her fingers are nudging under her waistband before she even realizes she’d been moving her hand. She doesn’t let herself think too hard about it, though, when she pushes past her underwear. She moves her hand slowly, taking her time, and tries to think about Niko pressing her into the bed, but when she opens her eyes, it’s not Niko hovering above her.</p><p>It’s a blonde lifeguard with a peculiar accent for the Midwestern United States.</p><p>“<em>You’re beautiful</em>,” she imagines the blonde saying, and she presses on her clit just as—</p><p>“Eve?”</p><p>It should be telling, the way the fantasy shatters when she hears her <em> husband’s </em> voice from the other room. Her husband. The man who is supposed to be doing this for her, supposed to be the cause of the slickness she’d just begun to feel moments before. “In here,” Eve calls, pulling her hand out of her pants.</p><p>Niko stumbles in, pulling off his shirt. “Crazy night of bridge,” he tells her, grinning. “I won a hundred bucks.”</p><p>“Not from Dom, I hope.”</p><p>“No, not from him. Kid hardly makes enough to stay in the game.” Eve watches Niko’s broad shoulders as he unbuckles his pants before she pushes herself into a sitting position.</p><p>“Hey, Niko?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>Eve takes off her shirt. Niko doesn’t glance at her, instead opting to rummage through their shared dresser for something to sleep in. Eve straightens her back a bit, pushing her tits out, and says, “You wanna…?”</p><p>Finally, he looks up. He glances at her chest, then blushes, grinning in that way that makes his mustache look patchy. “Oh, darling, I’m knackered.” He grabs a tee and disappears into their bathroom, leaving Eve alone.</p><p>Alone and frustrated.</p><p>The next day, she goes back to the pool.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s back,” Hugo tells Villanelle, but when Villanelle turns to the pool deck, wondering how on Earth she managed to miss the new object of her obsession walking in, he grabs her and turns her toward the parking lot. “No, look, <em> there</em>.”</p><p>There. The woman is walking toward their small building from the street, swim bag bouncing on her hip, and her dark, curly hair is down and wild. Villanelle wants to bury her face in it. She almost forgives Hugo for his manhandling, but shoots him a glare last minute that makes him very quickly pull his hands back. </p><p>Today, it’s Hugo, Jess, Elena, and Audrey. The other three are in the stands, Hugo is manning the register, and Villanelle is figuring out how to act like she’s not waiting for this woman to finally reach the admission desk. She settles on leaning against the wall, having pulled her stupid book from her backpack. She’s not even reading it, really, just borrowing it while Irina has to read it for homework. </p><p>“Just one, please,” the woman says, and Hugo, the fuck, glances back at Villanelle before he presses a few buttons on the register.</p><p>“Four bucks,” Hugo tells her, and the woman hands him the money. Before she goes to the left into the women’s locker room, however, she says, “Enjoying the book?”</p><p>Hugo looks shocked. Villanelle’s shocked, too, but she’s better at hiding it. She looks up, runs a hand through her loose hair, and says, “Not really.”</p><p>The woman’s brow knits and she, momentarily, looks affronted. Then, she laughs. Shakes her head. Villanelle decides this woman is crazy. Rejecting Villanelle was just one symptom, and now this, whatever it is, is making a pretty compelling case.</p><p>“It’s one of my favorites,” the woman says, and then she walks off. </p><p>Hugo turns to Villanelle, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ and Villanelle smacks him, hard, the both of them beginning a silent feud, arms flailing, quiet because they both know how easy it is to overhear the lifeguard conversations from the locker rooms. Finally, Villanelle spots the woman on the deck, so she maneuvers Hugo into a headlock and after an indignant squeak, he taps out.</p><p>“Jesus,” he breathes, rubbing his neck. “I could sue the city for that, you know.”</p><p>“I don’t care about the city,” she tells him, already taking position in the doorway, arms crossed, and watching the woman from behind her sunglasses. “I am talking a walk,” she tells him, sliding out of her shorts and leaving them on the wooden bench by the door.</p><p>She walks past the woman, who, today, is wearing a black one piece instead of the red bikini from the day before. Villanelle plans on not even glancing in the woman’s direction, but as she passes, the woman stands up and stretches her arms high above her head, pulling her suit taut against the stomach. She rolls her shoulders, shakes out her hair, and then— </p><p>She bends over and touches her toes.</p><p>She bends over, ass in Villanelle’s direction, and touches her toes.</p><p>Villanelle trips on a crack in the concrete.</p><p>Quickly recovering, she tears her eyes away from what is perhaps the best view in town and speedwalks to Elena in her lifeguard chair. She’s in chair three, overseeing the diving boards, and Villanelle has to climb the chair to get next to her, hanging onto it while Elena says, “You of all people should know how against the rules this is.”</p><p>“I make the rules,” Villanelle mutters, glancing at the woman, now seated once again in her lounge chair. “Have you ever read <em> The Scarlet Letter? </em>”</p><p>“Yeah, in high school.” Elena glances at her, before her eyes return to the water. She quickly grabs her whistle, blowing it hard at two little boys on the same diving board. “Oi! One at a time on the diving board.” The second boy skitters back to the stairs and carefully climbs down, while Elena mutters, “Children, I swear. Why’re you worried about a AP Lit book?”</p><p>“It is her favorite, apparently,” Villanelle says mockingly. She wants to spit on this woman, but she also wants this woman so, so badly. So badly she hates how much.</p><p>Elena grins. “You’ve got it for her, haven’t you?”</p><p>“No,” Villanelle pouts. “I just want to fuck her.”</p><p>“Sure.” Elena adjusts her position in the chair. “Because the Villanelle I know keeps going after she’s been rejected.”</p><p>“She’s <em> taunting </em> me,” Villanelle argues, almost bringing a hand up and gesturing at the woman, and what a fat load of shit <em> that </em> would do her. “Every single time I walk past her, she gets up and stretches. Her suit is riding her ass so far up it’s touching her <em> amazing </em> hair.”</p><p>“Some people appreciate flexibility,” Elena points out. “She’s sitting by the pool and reading a book. You’re the one with the boner.”</p><p>“You are not any fun.” Villanelle begins to climb down, and her foot is on the hot cement when Elena calls down, “Hey, wait.” Villanelle climbs back up. Elena continues, “Just— be <em> hot</em>. If you want her so badly, do what you do best.”</p><p>Scrunching her nose, Villanelle asks, “Which is?”</p><p>“I’m not calling you hot twice,” Elena says, and Villanelle smiles, finally hopping to the ground.</p><p>Be hot. That’s easy. Villanelle stalks around the corner of the pool to the line of little children behind the diving board and says, “Move, I work here,” when she cuts in front of them. She says it loud and obnoxious enough that she notices the woman glance over, albeit briefly, but then Villanelle has climbed the two steps to the board. She walks halfway down it, Elena rolling her eyes, and then pulls her shirt off, revealing her body once again.</p><p>As she reaches the end of the board, she unclips her fanny pack and tosses it to the pool deck. It does its job, landing right next to the woman and scraping the concrete. Having done this a thousand times, she knows how graceful she is as she bounces three times on the end of the board, each time going higher and higher into the air, before she twists her body into a perfect swan dive, torpedoing effortlessly into the deep end of the pool.</p><p>Villanelle swims underwater to the ladder, breaching the surface as she pulls herself up it. Red bikini against tan skin, doused in droplets of water, Villanelle <em> knows </em> she looks good. Plus, every dad in the place is staring at her slackjawed. Finally, she stands and runs hands through her hair, wringing it out like a towel. </p><p>She walks past the woman, who was definitely watching, and winks.</p><p>Hugo gives her a thumbs up from the office door.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t count as cheating if she’s just indulging in someone, right? She’s just encouraging a harmless crush, basking in the attention of an incredibly sexy woman in her early twenties, and hey, if she’s married, what about it? She’s going home to him tonight, she’s not making any marriage-ending mistakes, and if her ego gets boosted in the meantime…</p><p>To say Eve is <em> teasing </em> the blonde would be an understatement. This is the most fun Eve’s had at the pool in ages. It’s a colder day, the sun not as bright, so there are less people around, and Eve is forcing herself out of her comfort zone. She splits her time between reading on a lounge chair, choosing the moments the blonde is out of the office to stand up and stretch. And if her stretching includes bending down and touching her toes, just to pull out her hamstrings a bit, it’s not her fault that her ass is most often pointed toward the lifeguard office.</p><p>Besides, what kind of lifeguard doesn’t guard? That’s the one thing Eve hasn’t been able to wrap her head around. The blonde hasn’t been in the stand <em> once</em>, and Eve’s been here for a few hours.</p><p>But she has been in the pool. Eve blinks, attempting to focus on the words of her book and not the sudden warmth blooming through her, a warmth decidedly not from the sun. She isn’t thinking about the way she’d watched a droplet of water fall from the blonde’s chin and land on her sternum, before it slid between her breasts. She’s <em> not </em> thinking about those breasts at all, or the way they’re stupidly perfect, the way Eve's kind of were when she was that age.</p><p>God, she’s young.</p><p>Stop. Eve. Stop. </p><p>Married. You’re married. </p><p>“Sorry?” Someone asks, and Eve turns to her left to see a pasty, round man blinking at her.</p><p>“Um, what?”</p><p>“You said, ‘Married,’ outloud,” he tells her, smiling in that way people do when they feel bad for you.</p><p>How many hours has it been? Too many. Eve quickly stands up, says, “Right,” and then grabs her bag and leaves. Before she can get to the locker room, however, the blonde lifeguard steps in her way. She blocks the entrance to the locker room, chewing on her whistle and leaning against the doorframe in a way that forces her to kant her hips forward.</p><p>“Excuse me,” Eve says, and the blonde looks up at her, like she’s only just realized Eve is there.</p><p>“Oh, am I in the way?” The blonde laughs. “Sorry.” She doesn’t move.</p><p>Eve steps forward, completely determined to make way with the small space between the blonde and the doorway, but then the blonde bumps into her in a way that is really just rubbing their bodies together and two things happen at once: the blonde says, “Oops,” and Eve puts her hand out to steady both of them as they rock, off balance, except her hand lands right on a red-bikini covered tit.</p><p>“Oh," the blonde says, smile teasing.</p><p>Eve quickly snatches her hand back. “Fuck. I didn’t—”</p><p>“It’s okay.” Bright green eyes look Eve up and down, and Jesus, it’s like she’s seeing right through Eve. “More than okay.”</p><p>Except Eve cannot have this conversation right now. Or <em> ever</em>, really. She skirts past the blonde without saying another word, not even bothering to put her clothes back on before she exits through the front. She’ll pull her shirt on later. But first, she’ll take her bathing suit <em> off </em> and then she’ll masturbate furiously and forget all of this happened and never, ever come to this stupid fucking pool ever again.</p><p>But she might come back tomorrow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Villanelle doesn’t even know her name.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i am going to create an environment that is so homosexual........ milf hunter villanelle catches her prey... but maybe gets snagged a bit herself !</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Villanelle doesn’t even know her name. </p><p>It’s been two weeks since the woman first came in, and she’s come every day since. She’s definitely more tan than before, that’s for sure, but lately she’s been electing to sit in the lounge chairs that have shades hanging above them, situating hers before she sits down and settles in to read.</p><p>They’ve been playing games. Or at least, Villanelle has been playing them while this woman sets fire to Villanelle’s entire chase philosophy. She’s <em> interested</em>, that much is true, but she’s so good at acting uninterested, so good at hitting Villanelle with blank looks that give Villanelle nothing to work with. </p><p>It’s both frustrating and arousing. </p><p>That’s the other thing — Villanelle has started getting horny at work, which is not great. She wouldn’t dare take care of things in the stalls (she knows how badly they clean them), and when she’s at home, Irina is practicing piano or guitar or whatever the fuck else and by the time all of that is done, Villanelle is too tired to do anything but sleep.</p><p>The other guards are noticing that something’s off, too. She bites back almost twice as much as she usually does, makes them clean when they’re not in the chair, and Elena even tells her to find someone else to fuck while she’s focused on this one woman.</p><p>There isn’t anyone else. She doesn’t even want to <em> think </em> about touching another woman until she’s gotten something straight from this one. Acceptance or rejection. It’s that easy.</p><p>She walks up to the woman and sits down on the lounge chair next to her. “What is your name?”</p><p>The woman looks up. Dark, inquisitive eyes, lips that Villanelle just wants to… “Eve.” The woman looks around, and Villanelle watches Hugo in the stand rip his gaze away from them and back to the water. She will have to reprimand him for that later. Eve adds, “Why?”</p><p>“Because you come here everyday,” Villanelle explains, sitting straighter. “It’s good customer service to get to know your regulars.”</p><p>“Is it good customer service to be so transparent about your intentions?” The way Eve says it, Villanelle almost thinks she’s talking about something else entirely.</p><p>Fine. Villanelle can play that game, too. “Being direct saves time and energy.”</p><p>“Some people might think it’s indecent.”</p><p>“Some people are morons,” Villanelle retorts. Eve fights a smile, and Villanelle wants to point at her and say, “A-ha!” but she doesn’t, only leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees, giving Eve a generous view of her cleavage. “I don’t see the point in going in circles.”</p><p>“I would consider it foreplay,” Eve says, closing her book. “And therefore, necessary.”</p><p>Villanelle smiles, hands clasped together, holding Eve’s gaze like the challenge it is. “Well, the customer is always right.” She stands up, looks down. “Anything I can help you with?”</p><p>Eve doesn’t answer right away. Her gaze drops, eyes searing across Villanelle’s body in a single instant, but by the time she looks back up, Villanelle knows she’s won this, whatever this was. “No,” Eve says, clearing her throat. “Thank you.”</p><p>Villanelle bends down, hair falling a bit in her face. “Let me know if there’s <em> anything </em> I can do for you.”</p><p>Eve blinks. “I— I will.”</p><p>Standing back up, Villanelle turns around and walks off, feeling the burn of Eve’s eyes on her ass. “Wait!” Eve says, and Villanelle turns to find her scrambling off the lounge chair. She gets up, half-jogs a few steps. “You didn’t tell me your name.”</p><p>“Villanelle.”</p><p>“Villanelle,” Eve repeats, nodding. </p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>Of course.</p><p>Of <em> fucking </em> course. </p><p>It’s like Villanelle walked straight out of Eve’s dreams, the perfect woman just waiting for Eve to say <em> yes</em>, for Eve to say <em> I want to be ruined</em>, for Eve to say <em> Your name is my favorite type of poem. </em>Jesus fucking christ.</p><p>Eve doesn’t go back to the pool for a week. She needs time. She needs… distance. She suggests to Niko that they go wine tasting, so they spend the better part of the week driving through Iowa, stopping at various wineries that are, overall, not that great, and Eve listens to Niko tell her about the type of hill formations in the area they’re driving on.</p><p>To Eve, they just look like hills. Niko says they have a name, but she doesn’t really listen to him when he rants, just staring at the yellow of the world around them. Yellow fields, green trees, and the occasional white or grey farmhouse. He tells her these types of hills are only found here, in Western Iowa and in <em> China </em>. He’s cute when he’s excited, and Eve almost lets herself believe that it’s enough. </p><p>And when she <em> does </em> go back to the pool, Villanelle isn’t there. It’s the first time she’s been missing from this tableau of summer chaos, and Eve is very obviously looking for her when she pays for her admission and the kind-faced girl behind the counter says, “She’s visiting her grandparents.”</p><p>“Oh, I wasn’t—”</p><p>“You should buy a punch card,” the girl says, saving Eve the time. “It’s less money for twenty visits. Saves you a few since you come so often.”</p><p>Eve nods, quickly vacating to the locker room and finding a bathroom stall. She sits on the toilet and lets out a few breaths, trying to decide how lame it would be to walk out now that Villanelle isn’t here. She decides to stay, and manages to sit in the sun for twenty minutes before she’s too bored to keep reading. She’s five books behind on her Goodreads goal, and something tells her that if she just gave in, she’d get ahead of it in no time.</p><p>For the next three days, Eve peeks through the chainlink fence and scans the faces of the lifeguards for the familiar one. Villanelle isn’t there until the fourth day, so Eve pays her admission and spends three hours watching Villanelle take occasional walks around the pool, and it isn’t until there is a child who is actually drowning that anything truly eventful happens.</p><p>It’s in the deep end, and the boy in the lifeguard stand freezes at the top of the chair, staring at a little kid who flails his arms as he attempts to stay afloat. In moments, however, there’s a short burst of three whistles, and then Villanelle is sprinting past Eve and jumping into the water, rescue tube tucked underneath her arms.</p><p>She sweeps her arms in wide, broad strokes, as all of the other lifeguards stand at attention in their chairs. The poor boy in the tall chair looks terrified.</p><p>Villanelle ducks under the water and emerges with the boy in her arms, flipping him so he rests on the tube as she swims him back to the wall. He’s conscious, at least, and there is a crying mother at the edge of the pool waiting for him. Villanelle helps him out, glances at Eve, before she turns her gaze to one of the guards in the office.</p><p>She makes a gesture, and a girl quickly goes to replace the boy in the high chair. Villanelle stalks toward him, and as soon as she’s close enough, Eve can hear her snarl, “What the <em> hell </em> was that?”</p><p>“I’m sorry! I just panicked, I didn’t—”</p><p>“We don’t get to panic, Kenny!” Villanelle’s voice is hard, amplified by her glare. “We’ve been at this for weeks. Kids could’ve drowned under your fucking watch, so don’t tell me you just <em> panicked</em>.”</p><p>The boy, Kenny, attempts to say something, but Villanelle grabs him by the shoulders and throws him into the deep end, turning fast on her heel and striding to the locker room. A moment after she disappears inside, Eve follows her.</p><p>She finds Villanelle leaning over the sink, hands clenched around the porcelain on either side, staring at the drain. Villanelle looks up at her in the mirror, and Eve can just feel the anger radiating off her in waves. It’s unsettling and off-putting. It’s dangerous and Eve’s beginning to think Villanelle might have some anger issues, but it’s also—</p><p>Sexy.</p><p>Villanelle turns around, leaning against the sink. Eve steps forward. </p><p>Nothing has changed. Eve is still married. Villanelle is still twenty-whatever. Nothing has changed, except everything has changed, and Eve tells herself that locker rooms are just a liminal space when she takes another step forward and kisses Villanelle.</p><p>It’s the press of lips on lips that finally makes Eve realize what the fuck is happening. She pulls back immediately, remembers every piece of her life that would shatter into tiny little pieces because of this, and stares at Villanelle in shock.</p><p>She doesn’t find that the anger has dissipated from Villanelle’s eyes. Instead, it’s twisted into something heavy with arousal, something that burns through Eve without Villanelle even <em> touching </em> her. </p><p>It’s Villanelle who closes the distance for the second kiss, pushing Eve’s lips apart with her tongue. Eve lets her, God does she let her, and Villanelle’s tongue slides against hers. Eve hasn’t kissed someone like this for at least a decade. Villanelle grabs Eve’s hips, pulls them forward hard, and suddenly they’re pressed together, wearing basically nothing, and yeah, Villanelle is still soaking.</p><p>“Okay,” Eve says, shaking her head. “Stop.”</p><p>Villanelle pulls back. Looks at her. Doesn’t let go.</p><p>“We can’t do this here.”</p><p>“The pool closes at five,” Villanelle says, and it’s so simple. Five words, meaning inscribed within them in plain English. Except, they can’t go back to Eve’s. And Eve doesn’t know if she wants to go back to whatever place Villanelle lives. “I have to file a report,” Villanelle whispers, and Eve remembers they’re at a public pool, Villanelle has just quite literally saved a life. Villanelle looks at her. “Eve?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Eve breathes. Her voice shakes.</p><p>“Come back. Tonight. When it’s dark.” Villanelle’s head tilts to the side. “We can figure out what happens then.”</p><p>Figure it out? Don’t they both <em> know</em>? It feels inevitable, this crashing the two of them are doing, like waves or cars or whatever the fuck else crashes into each other, over and over again. It feels like Eve can’t fight against it, like she’s already swam way too far away from the shore. </p><p>“Eve,” Villanelle says, bringing her back. “I have to go. Please come back.”</p><p>And then Villanelle is gone. All of her, the ghost of her touch still on Eve’s hips.</p><p>Eve stands in the locker room until someone else comes in, beelining for a bathroom stall. Eve stands in the locker room and stares at herself in the mirror and decides she doesn’t want to be the type of person who denies herself the things she so obviously wants. Needs.</p><p>So Eve grabs her things, goes home.</p><p>And comes back when it’s dark.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>It is an excruciating rest of the day.  </p><p>Villanelle aches a bit when Eve slips out, watching her back disappear amongst the cars parked in the lot in the early afternoon sun. She has three hours until close, then another four until the sun sinks low enough to justify whatever’s happening between them. Sure, Eve’s interested in sex, but Villanelle finds herself hoping, as she straddles the stool in the lifeguard office, that Eve might want something more, something… <em> longer</em>. </p><p>She’s enjoyed the game they’ve played the past few weeks. A lot. It’s made her easier to be around, made her more pleasant to Irina and Konstantin, who actually pulled her aside and asked her if she was seeing anyone.</p><p>She stopped torturing the guards during inservice, mostly because the more she punished them, the more they teased her about the way she couldn’t stop smiling whenever Eve glanced in her direction.</p><p>It is a very long three hours, and then it is five PM, and Villanelle almost tells the staff to just go home, that they’ll clean up tomorrow. Except she doesn’t want to clean up tomorrow, so she helps them chain up the lifeguard stands, clean up the pool desk, and tidy up the office.  When Elena asks Villanelle if she wants to get a drink, Villanelle says, “I’m actually going to stay and do the vacuuming.”</p><p>Elena makes a face. “I’m not arguing with that,” she says, before disappearing through the front gate. Villanelle watches her go, before getting out the vacuum and turning it on. She might as well actually <em> do it </em> while she waits for Eve. It only takes her around forty-five minutes to do the entire pool, so she orders food and gets it delivered, watching Netflix on her phone and occasionally glancing outside of the office to watch the sky turn from blue to pink to orange to indigo. </p><p>And then, eventually, there’s a <em> tap </em> on the metal garage door.</p><p>Villanelle bolts from the office, running barefoot across the pool deck to the side gate. “Eve!” she calls, holding the door open.</p><p>Sure enough, there’s a shadow of a person ambling over to her — Eve’s dressed, for the first time, not in a swimsuit. Villanelle grins at her, crossing her arms. “I like your outfit.”</p><p>“Be quiet,” Eve fires back. “This isn’t happening if you tease me.”</p><p>“Oh, I have <em> lots </em> of teasing planned,” Villanelle says, snagging Eve by her bermuda shorts belt loops. She tugs her close, revelling in the gasp Eve emits. Their lips are close, hovering within inches. “Tell me,” Villanelle murmurs, “What do you do?”</p><p>“I’m a teacher,” Eve says, and Villanelle knows she’s not trying to be sexy, but it is. It’s incredibly sexy. </p><p>“The book thing,” Villanelle comments, releasing Eve and closing the gate behind the two of them. Locking it. “English?”</p><p>Eve nods, as Villanelle leads the way, turning around and walking backwards to the lifeguard office. Eve’s steps are less sure the further they go, and Villanelle half expects her to change her mind and walk out, but then they are in the dimly lit office. Villanelle sweeps her arms open wide. “Welcome.”</p><p>“Very homey,” Eve comments. She stands in the middle of the room, awkward and unsure.</p><p>Villanelle, who had previously tugged on a sweatshirt as the heat dwindled out of the air, now takes it off, throwing it across the room without a care for where it lands. She doesn’t miss the hungry way Eve looks at her, roaming her eyes over her bikini and her stomach.</p><p>Eve shakes her head, letting out a laugh. “I can’t even believe I’m here. This feels like a porno.”</p><p>That’s a bit disappointing. Villanelle looks at her, leaning against the counter, all nervous and fluttery energy, and smiles. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”</p><p>“What, we’re doing it here?” Eve makes a face.</p><p>“Excuse you,” Villanelle murmurs. She starts toward Eve, who only watches her advance. “I actually built this office myself.”</p><p>“Did you?”</p><p>“Mhm.” Villanelle reaches her, stops just in front of Eve. “What do you want to do?”</p><p>Eve chews on her lip, eyes dark with arousal. Villanelle knows what Eve wants to do, but she wants to hear it, wants to know Eve’s okay with whatever this will do to her life. For Villanelle, it’s sex, and she’ll have no problem walking away the next day, but for Eve, it’s so much more. </p><p>“I don’t know,” Eve admits. “But I know what I want <em> you </em> to do.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“I—” Eve stops. She lifts her hands, lets them hang in the air just above Villanelle’s chest, fingers twitching like they’re just <em> aching </em> for something to hold onto. </p><p>Villanelle steps closer, so Eve’s hands land on her chest, the right and left sides of her sternum. She noses at Eve’s cheek, then her neck. Eve’s head lifts, letting her have more space, more time, more everything. She kisses the skin there, feeling the flutter of Eve’s racing pulse. “Say it,” she whispers. “Tell me.”</p><p>“Just,” Eve breathes, and then she grabs Villanelle’s face with both hands, tugs her in, and right before their lips crash together, she says, “Fuck me.”</p><p>Villanelle doesn’t need <em> any </em> more invitation. She leans into Eve, pressing her mouth against Eve’s hungrily, and Eve kisses her back, sliding her hands into Villanelle’s hair. Eve kisses with the kind of desperation someone who hasn’t really been kissed does, and Villanelle is a <em> very </em> good kisser. She pushes her hips into Eve’s swallowing the gasp that slips from Eve’s lips at the contact.</p><p>Eve stumbles back, her back hitting the wall of the office, and Villanelle’s hands slide around her hips to her ass, squeezing through her shorts. God, Eve feels <em> amazing</em>. They grind against each other in that needy way that Villanelle feeds on. She bits at Eve’s lower lip, tasting her, then drags her tongue across Eve’s jaw and down to her throat. She reaches a hand up and palms Eve’s breast through her shirt, and Eve gasps, “Fuck, fuck— <em> more</em>.”</p><p>More. Villanelle can do that. She slides her hand down, across the tight muscle of Eve’s abdomen, then slips up under her shirt, under her bra, palming Eve’s breast hard, enjoying the way it feels in her hand, perfectly sized, and Eve, underneath her, perfectly reactive. She swirls her thumb around a nipple, swallowing Eve’s moan with a kiss.</p><p>She unbuttons Eve’s shorts with her free hand, a bit surprised with herself for managing to do it singlehanded. She slips a hand into Eve’s underwear, letting out her own sound of approval when her fingers find wetness. “For me?” she breathes, and Eve nods, hard and true.</p><p>Villanelle spreads two fingers across Eve’s clit, working it without <em> touching </em> until Eve is shaking beneath her, a step close to overstimulated. “Don’t fall,” she says, a beat before she slides two fingers further down and presses into Eve easily.</p><p>Her words are easier said than done, it seems, because Eve slumps against her hand, tightening her grip on Villanelle’s head and holding her there, lips pressing into Eve’s shoulder as she works. She starts slow, rhythmically, dragging the pads of her fingertips across Eve’s sensitive inner front wall, feeling a pressure building beneath her touch. Eve is quite possibly the most reactive lover she’s had, jolting at every single tiny movement of Villanelle’s fingers.</p><p>She works Eve up, occasionally brushing her thumb across Eve’s clit, until her fingers are sliding a bit too easily, Eve a bit too open. She slides in a third, revelling in the tightness there. Eve shakes, close to orgasm, and just as her hand tightens in Villanelle’s hair, Villanelle slows, pausing, and Eve <em> groans</em>.</p><p>“I want you to feel all of it,” Villanelle murmurs, extracting her hand. She tears at Eve’s shirt, throwing it across the room. She presses her lips to one of Eve’s nipples, shoving the bra aside and not bothering to take it off. Eve claps a hand over her mouth, hips jutting forward, desperate for contact. As Villanelle’s mouth works, tongue lapping against hardened skin, she uses both hands to shove down Eve’s shorts. Eve kicks at them, wagging a caught ankle, and soon enough, Eve’s <em> naked </em> in the middle of the place Villanelle spends almost every day.</p><p>She’s beautiful.</p><p>Villanelle lifts her head, but Eve grabs her, kisses her, using her own, tentative hand and palming at Villanelle’s bikini-covered breast. Villanelle groans at the friction, inexperienced as it is, and Eve grows more confident, reaching around and pulling at the bikini.</p><p>“Not yet,” Villanelle murmurs, sliding a hand back between Eve’s legs. She doesn’t waste time now, pressing three fingers into Eve. Eve forgets about Villanelle’s bra, the sensation too much to focus on anything <em> other </em> than the way Villanelle is touching her. This is how Villanelle likes her women — pliable beneath her fingers, the difference between coming undone and divine with a twitch of her arm.</p><p>Eve makes an obscene sound when she comes, as Villanelle works frantically, pressing a thumb against Eve’s clit and curling her fingers <em> just </em> right, massaging the tight pressure just inside of her. She feels Eve tighten around her fingers, feels Eve’s thighs tighten around her hand. She’s holding Eve up through the ride, until she finally slides her fingers out.</p><p>Eve shakes her head, breathing hard. “Oh my god.”</p><p>Villanelle preens. “Yeah?”</p><p>Eve finally focuses on her. “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>Jesus <em> fuck</em>. Is this… Is this what she’s been missing the <em> entire time</em>? </p><p>Eve blinks, the edges of her vision slowly seeping black. The lifeguard office comes into clear color, a dull comparison to the fireworks going on inside of her. Villanelle is there, still close and smelling like chlorine, her cheeks sunkissed and hair loose and golden. She’s <em> pretty </em> — almost too pretty and perfect to be the woman who just fucked Eve into near unconsciousness. </p><p>And she’s wearing too many clothes. Eve spurs into action, grabbing at Villanelle’s bikini for the second time, but deft hands catch hers. “Wait,” Villanelle says, before craning her neck and looking out the door.</p><p>“What are you—” One moment, Villanelle is there, her breasts <em> inches </em> from Eve’s hands, and then she is gone, disappearing through the door to stand out on the pool deck.</p><p>And Eve is naked.</p><p>“Villanelle!” She hisses, throwing a cautious hand over her breasts, then another hand for between her own legs. She hasn’t felt like this since college, the feeling of creeping through a communal shower in only a towel and return to the safety of her dorm without being seen. </p><p>She peeks out the door, just as Villanelle strips out of the rest of her swimsuit, and… Okay. Wow. Okay. Villanelle is… Well, she’s 20-something, and she’s <em> naked</em>, and she’s… </p><p>“What are you <em> doing</em>?” Eve calls, voice low. Villanelle walks backward, dangerously close to the pool, but Eve’s staring at her bare chest, the soft tumble of hair at the apex of her thighs. </p><p>A step away from the pool, Villanelle turns around and dives in. </p><p>When she surfaces, she yells, “Come on, Eve!”</p><p>But once again, Eve is naked. </p><p>“I’m good!”</p><p>Villanelle leans against the side of the pool, resting her chin on her wet arms. It’s fully dark by now, the park around the pool empty, but Eve’s brain is already working overtime to justify this. Even if there <em> were </em> people outside of the fence, they wouldn’t be able to see her and Villanelle’s… nakedness. </p><p>Jesus, what is she doing?”</p><p>“Eve,” Villanelle calls, stressing the “ee” sound enough that it sounds like a whine. “Come swim.”</p><p>There’s a very beautiful woman in the pool. Naked. Waiting for Eve to fuck her. Okay. Eve leaves her hands covering her bits as she takes a single step out of the office. She’s exposed, enough to spur her into action. Rather than take hesitant steps to the edge, Eve bolts for the pool. Villanelle laughs as she backs up, watching Eve jump in. </p><p>The water is cold, refreshingly so, and a stark contrast to the humid, night air. Her hair weighs so much more now that it’s soaked, but that doesn’t really matter because the moment she surfaces, Villanelle is kissing her again, water sliding between their lips until it’s indistinguishable from the saliva. This time, it’s Eve who backs Villanelle up against a wall, hands roaming across familiar, yet unfamiliar, territory.</p><p>Villanelle grabs Eve’s hand and leads it between her legs. Eve doesn’t have a moment to think about what she’s doing before her fingers are pressing against Villanelle’s folds, sinking into warmth. It’s not unlike touching herself, but different, so different. Villanelle smiles against her lips, nodding her head, breathing, “Yes, yes, fuck, <em> please</em>,” and if that’s not the best kind of encouragement, Eve doesn’t know what is.</p><p>She presses a single finger inside, getting used to the way she can move like this, and Villanelle’s hips jerk, chasing more contact. So Eve presses in a second, moving in and out, and Villanelle’s nodding into her neck, digging her teeth in, and after only a few minutes, Villanelle crests with a sharp gasp. Eve holds her, mesmerized, until Villanelle blinks at her. </p><p>“Oh my god,” Eve says again, because did she really just do that?”</p><p>Villanelle nods, but then she’s propping her hands up on the side of the pool and sliding out of the water, sitting her ass down on the edge. Very suddenly, Eve is face to face with another woman’s vagina. </p><p>Oh. </p><p>“Too much?” Villanelle wonders, sensing Eve’s hesitation. </p><p>Eve looks up at her, biting her lip, and hopes her next move is enough of an answer. She leans in, breath ghosting against Villanelle’s damp thighs, and then presses her lips against Villanelle, dipping her tongue past folds and lapping until she hits a soft bud of tension. Villanelle’s hands are in her wet hair, pulling a bit uncomfortably, and then Villanelle is falling back onto the concrete, back arching.</p><p>Eve revels in the taste of her, the salty, chlorine heat of Villanelle. Her tongue dips lower, pressing against Villanelle’s entrance and sliding past it. Villanelle’s hips bounce and jerk so much Eve finds herself holding them down, a hand on either side, pressing hard enough that she hopes the rocky ground scrapes into Villanelle’s ass.</p><p>She uses her lips and her tongue, alternating between dipping inside and licking up against Villanelle’s clit, enjoying the way Villanelle gasps loud enough that she could be attracting attention, if there were attention to attract. And at this point, Eve doesn’t <em> care</em>. She only cares about the way Villanelle tastes, feels against her, and the way Villanelle’s nails dig into her scalp. </p><p>She relinquishes one of Villanelle’s hips to slide a hand around and slip a finger into Villanelle. Tongue on Villanelle’s clit, and a finger circling inside, remembering what Villanelle did to her, curling up against the front of her, Villanelle’s breath chokes, catching in her throat.</p><p>She comes hard, a gush of wetness flooding around Eve’s finger, but Eve doesn’t stop, increasing pressure against Eve’s clit with her tongue until Villanelle can barely even hold onto her head, instead choosing to throw an arm over her face. She comes again, and Eve finally steps back, licking her lips.</p><p>Villanelle is up in an instant, sliding back into the pool and kissing Eve, raunchily sliding her tongue across Eve’s lips.</p><p>“Where did you learn how to do that?” Villanelle says finally, as Eve takes in her red cheeks.</p><p>“Oh, so you’re assuming I’ve never done that before?” Eve teases, hoping she doesn’t sound too much like she <em> hasn’t</em>.</p><p>Villanelle gives her a measured look. Her hands slide around Eve’s hips, grabbing Eve’s ass. Her fingers are dangerously close to Eve’s cunt, sparking yet another burn between Eve’s legs. “I guess you’ll have to teach me,” she suggests, voice low.</p><p>“We’re not playing that game,” Eve warns.</p><p>“But <em> Mrs. Polastri</em>, I’ve been bad…” Villanelle bats her eyes, hand sliding far enough to press a fingertip into Eve.</p><p>Eve bites her lip. “Make up for it, then,” she whispers, and then Villanelle is kissing her.</p><p>And if Eve sleeps soundly for the first time since the summer began, Niko doesn’t notice. And if Eve goes to the pool almost every day for the rest of the summer, arriving at five PM and coming home late in the evening, Niko doesn’t question that, either. And if Villanelle comes to Eve’s on her days off, fucking Eve on every surface of the house, Niko doesn’t notice anything out of place. It’s not until the next school year starts that Eve slides the divorce papers across the table, and he blinks at them with wide eyes, completely blindsided.</p><p>The same night she leaves him with the papers, Eve takes Villanelle out for a proper date. They fuck in Villanelle’s off-campus apartment, and afterward, staring at the ceiling, Villanelle says, “I think I love you.”</p><p>Eve laughs. “What? You love me?”</p><p>Villanelle frowns at her, sliding out of Eve’s arms and pouting a bit. “I mean, yeah.”</p><p>Oh. “Okay,” Eve says slowly. She waits a beat, letting her own brain catch up. “I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”</p><p>“It is only because you rub suntan onto yourself very sexily.”</p><p>“Yeah, this was my plan all along.”</p><p>Villanelle shoots up in the bed. “It was not.”</p><p>Eve laughs, happier this time, and shakes her head. “You’re right.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Villanelle hums, before diving in and pressing her lips messily to Eve’s neck, her too-long fingers digging at Eve’s abdomen and <em> tickling</em>. Eve cackles, loud and embarrassing, before Villanelle sits back again. “Eve,” she says seriously. “Do you love me?”</p><p>“I left my husband for you.”</p><p>“Yes,” Villanelle urges. “But do you love me?”</p><p>“Yes, you dork,” Eve says. She pulls Villanelle down to kiss the smile off her face, before pulling back mid-kiss. “I love you.”</p><p>“Good,” Villanelle nods, before crawling down Eve’s body. “Because I want you to scream it while I devour you.”</p><p>And Eve does. Oh boy, does she.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>@dykefruit on twitter! give me some love :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oop. @dykefruit on twitter. kudos and comments ALWAYS appreciated.</p><p>villanelle: move, i'm gay</p></blockquote></div></div>
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